


What Becomes the World

by Lunasong365



Series: Luna's GO Poetry [12]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: After Apocalypse, F/M, Gen, M/M, Poetry, events after canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-08-31 23:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8598199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunasong365/pseuds/Lunasong365
Summary: What happens after one feels the world change?  Five vignettes of Good Omens pairings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> tomato_greens introduced me to a poem called _From Blossoms_ by Li-Young Lee that I absolutely fell in love with. The poem is the primary inspiration for these shorts. [ Please take a moment to read it.](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/43012)
> 
> I've added this work to my 'Luna's GO Poetry' series because of the poem for Adam and Pepper.
> 
> III. was originally published as _The Birds and the Bees: Pão de Mel_ , part of a gift for edna_blackadder for the 2016 GOHE.  
> V. was originally published as _Someone to Count On_ on AO3, and the first three comment sets below belong to its initial posting.

**I. Adam and Pepper**  

Pepper traced the path to  
the apple orchard, abloom  
in spring fecundity.  
Seclused in shadow, she  
was barely adequate,  
as measured by GSCEs. She  
was waiting for Adam.  
The golden child, the chosen one  
on holiday from public school  
(full scholarship, of course).  
He’d called her. “Pepper, please;  
it’s important that I see you.”

He came with Dog, that little pup  
that never seemed to age a day.  
He helped her to a sturdy branch  
where they sat side by side  
and Dog snoozed in forget-me-nots  
that drifted ‘cross the grass.  
He wove a flower crown for her  
from twigs and blossoms, took her hand,  
and said, “I haven’t forgotten  
that you saved me when  
I could have lost it all - more than  
you can ever know. Pepper, it means  
everything to me  
that you are my friend.”

 

**II. Newt and Anathema**  

A whisper of jasmine wafted in on the light breeze from the open window as Newt snuggled against his dozing wife, his hand carefully wrapped around her belly. Anathema seemed to be alternating between bursts of energy and downright exhaustion these days. After all, the baby was due in a little more than a month. Anathema and Newt, continuing their promise to live their lives unpredicted by others, hadn’t wanted to know the baby’s sex.

They’d gotten a second-hand moses basket from Oxfam and an assortment of toys from Newt’s uncle in Hounslow. Even Shadwell and Madame Tracy had stopped by when they’d first heard the news with a couple of worn, but adorable stuffed animals with real glass eyes. Anathema was hugging one of them now as she slumbered.

Newt’s life hadn’t turned out at all as he’d anticipated. Of course, he no longer worked for United Holdings [Holdings] PLC. He now made a living as an independent maintenance man, able to fix any small appliance or perform home computer repairs. He even had his own van – with _his_ name painted on the door. Anathema was more beautiful and clever than he’d ever imagined he’d be worthy.

Anathema sighed and clutched the cuddly bear more tightly as Newt felt their baby move under his hand. A miracle. It ranked with the miracle that had occurred the day that Newt had crashed into Anathema’s life.

Saving the world was all well and good, but actually becoming someone’s world?

Newt gently brushed Anathema’s hair from her eyes and kissed her forehead as she woke.

 

**III. Jaime Hernez and Alicia**  

Jaime Hernez carefully tied the veiled bonnet over his _neta’s_ head and made sure her trouser legs were tucked into her wellies. Alicia giggled as Jaime zipped up the back of the white suit. “Grandda, I look like I’m going on a spacewalk.”

“Ah, dearest, this is to make sure the bees are safe from us. Are you ready?”

Alicia vigorously nodded her head and held out her arms as Jaime entrusted her with a basketful of supplies. He picked up his smoker and they trudged together toward the rear of the garden where Jaime kept his [hives](http://www.talkingwithbees.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/beehive-diagram.gif).

“After the winter, we have to check the health of the bees and make sure the hives are ready for the big honey season to come,” Jaime explained. He examined the first hive entrance for dead bees, then slowly lifted the cover off the top.

“Are you going to smoke them?” Alicia took the cover from her grandfather and laid it upside down on the ground.

Jaime used his hive tool to pry loose the hive-top feeder. “The bees should still be quite docile from the winter. However, we must be very calm and move slowly. If we create a lot of vibration, they might get agitated, thinking there is an intruder.” He set the feeder on top of the cover.

Alicia had already poked her head over the top of the super. The bees clung to the frames as Jaime lifted them one by one.

“Where is the queen?” Alicia asked.

“She is lower in the hive, in the brood chamber.” Jaime pointed. “See this metal layer? That is the queen excluder, so that we do not have to worry about her being up here on top when we pull the frames to extract the honey.

“These bees look healthy and we want to keep it that way. We’ll give them some antibiotic and mite medication, then seal them up back up so they are ready for warmer weather.”

“If we help keep the bees healthy, it’s almost like saving the world, right, Grandda? Because the bees will pollinate all the flowers for the fruits and vegetables and other plants.” Alicia’s eyes were bright with understanding.

“That’s right, my dearest. We help them and they help us. It is the way that all of us, working together, can save the world.”

Jaime looked on with pride as his granddaughter prepared the sugar syrup for the feeder.

 

**IV. Crowley and Aziraphale**  

“Consider this,” said Crowley, as he cut a bite-sized slice from his venison. “We’ve been on Earth for six thousand years. Tinkering in the affairs of humans, wiling and thwarting. All that time, who’d you _really_ consider to be the adversary?”

“Why you, of course,” answered Aziraphale, studying the hue of his wine caught in candlelight, then giving it a swirl. “That is, until the Arrangement. That did change the dynamic just a bit.” He sniffed the wine and took a sip.

“If you ask me,” the demon contradicted, “it was the humans all along. Look. Our superiors thought we could’ve been of some influence, but who’s been influencing who here all the while? Eh?” He waggled his fork to punctuate the questions.

Aziraphale primly dabbed his lips with a linen napkin. “Well, you could probably use some influence on your table manners,” he chided.

“That’s not the point!” said Crowley emphatically. “They sucked us in with their food and their architecture and their music and books…”

“And their cars,” added Aziraphale. “And computers and gadgets and…”

“Yes! Everything we enjoy! And we’ve taken it all in! Instead of being agents among them, it’s almost as though we’ve _become_ them! It’s insidious!”

“No,” said Aziraphale. “It’s _amazing._ ”

Crowley stopped. “Come again?”

“It’s amazing,” explained Aziraphale, “because they took the very apple, _your_ apple, that was supposed to condemn them to a lifetime of _needing_ things, perhaps even of needing God, and turned it into something else entirely. The spark of creation became a problem to be solved, a want to be satisfied, a desire to be expressed. And from that,” he waved his hand in a small circle, “comes all _this._

“It’s like you’d said at the duck pond the Day After,” the angel continued. “Next time, if there is a next time, it’s going to be Us against Them. But,” he said as he reached for Crowley’s hand across the table, “who’s Us, and who’s Them?”

Crowley lowered this sunglasses and looked intently into Aziraphale’s eyes as he covered the angel’s exquisitely manicured hand with his own.

“We’re Us,” he said with certainty. “And Them is anyone who’ll try to take _this,_ ” he entwined his fingers with Aziraphale’s, “away from us.”

 

**V. Shadwell and Tracy**

Shadwell helped Madame Tracy into the chair and gently tucked a blanket around her. He put her tea in the cupholder and snagged a tin of condensed milk for himself from the cupboard. Carefully joggling over the threshold, he wheeled her out the door of the bungalow and into the garden, setting the brakes near a dappled patch of daffodils. The herbs she’d planted when they’d first moved to Shangri-la were just sprouting tender new growth above their basal leaves, and a staked row of Brussels sprouts marked the back border of the patch.

_Aye, she looks more bewitchin’ ever’ day,_ the retired Witchfinder mused. He adjusted her paisley scarf over her sparse auburn wisps as Tracy’s eyes glowed with appreciation. Shadwell unfolded a lawn chair and set it beside her. He handed her the capped tea and popped open his can. Tracy’s hand shook as she lifted the tea for a sip, but her adoring gaze never left him. She reached out with her other hand and patted his arm. Shadwell took a draught from his can, then covered her hand with his. Tracy sniffed and a single tear ran down her face. Shadwell caught it with his finger, then touched it to the tip of her nose as his face creased with a crooked smile.

“Gonnae no dae that, hen. I’d take on the De’el himself, wumman, if it meant a square go a’ this. We’re in it together. Cancer’s no match for the two o’ us.”

_It doan really matter how many nipples ye got._


End file.
